The Broken Remedy
by rayaikawa
Summary: Roy Mustang is broken. "You know that you'd be fooling yourself again tonight; looking for a reverse remedy that hurts more than it heals." Royai Oneshot.


Disclaimer: I do not own FMA/B.  
>Author's Note: Hi! This is a little drabble I came up with out of boredom. I hope you enjoy. And it would really mean a lot to me if you review as well. Thank you so much. :)<p>

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><p>'The Anti-Fraternization Law has been eradicated, lifted… Just after the sudden transfer of subordinates; <em>my subordinate.<em>' You let out a sigh and you grit your teeth as hard as you could to supress the anger.

You begin to think as you muse over the fact that the relationship you share with her stretches beyond that wall that now stands between the two of you. But it isn't enough for you. You know you just can't fool yourself to thinking everything would be the same. And you are awfully aware of the very cruelty of having to be optimistic about something so negative. So as to numb the pain, you look at her intently as she walks along the corridor; realizing that even with that law through the paper shredder, you can't seem to hold her in your arms. Your objective to get used to it fails. You feel the hurt.

Then it strikes you. 'Bradley purposely did this.'

You bang your fist on the wall. Your eyebrows are meeting now in frustration and utter defeat. You feel the pain he wanted you to feel all the more admitting to the hole that pulls you down. It's as if you're trying to grasp what feels near but out of reach.

The next days were harder to pull through with and you begin to wonder if you'd get past the state at all. You glance up at the grandfather-clock beside the door.

'It's already 8pm' You murmur to yourself because no one would do it for you no more. Those little gestures, that one stern yet gentle voice. 'Finish the paperwork already, or else she'd bear a hole on the desk again.' You feel just how lonely you are. You wallow in self-pity again.

'It's gone.' You feel the burn in your chest and the constricting of your throat. Your stomach turns and shifts to an awful mood as sweat accumulates on your palms. You recall all the little instances she was there to remind you every little thing you had to do. And now, as you look at what you've become, you realize your pathetic being. You see the man who helplessly looks for a remedy. That's you; you who took everything for granted and now searching for an escape.

Soon, you start to pack up and leave the office.

Your foot just drags you along. Anywhere, everywhere. You don't take your car with you and you even forget to wear your coat. You are in shambles, in ruins. You walk in the nearest pub you can find. Your inability to smile and laugh like the rest of the people around you strikes you as something odd. You snicker. You're not even drunk yet you're already all over the place.

Then you take a seat; order your usual set of booze. You take all the strong ones hoping you'd eventually numb up. It's not fair to lose both your best friend and woman at almost the same month. It's not fair.

Your head spins and your vision fails you. Neon lights drag around like a mirage. The club music pounds on your ears.

'What time is it?' You try your best to cover and stop the throbbing pain both on your ears and chest that burns intensely. You feel the heat creep up to your body and consuming you whole. You fall from the chair to the cold hard floor and for a moment there, you just felt every nerve in your body freeze. No anything. You stare blankly on the floor and you start to wonder why everything is going sideways. You ask why the tables are on the walls and how people could scale walls. You let out a bitter smirk.

"It's funny." You whisper slyly. "You look a lot like my lieutenant."

You look up to a blonde, curvy and fair woman. But you knew that the similarities end there. You stand up and drape your body to her and she, in turn, gave you a provocative look, escorting you out the pub and down to a less crowded alley. You clutch on her hips and down to her behind as you feed your own fantasies. Then you turn right to a street that looked like a very shady area with winos everywhere and a barely dressed woman occasionally. You press her body on a bricked wall, feeling the passion that you kept in you for years.

You bury your head on her soft warm chest and as you unbutton her polo, she stops you. You look up at the deep blue eyes that stared back down at you. You avoid the haunting stare that seems to get you back to consciousness. 'You're not her.' You remind yourself. But it's too late. You're in the deep for too long and the lure of lust drowns your intoxicated mind.

"Not here." She says and leads you inside a very shabby room. The sheets are all over the place and you had the courage to ask.

"Riza, you love me too right?"

You press your lips against hers and as you taste her, you feel her soft hands go up your back to your nape. You knew her hands weren't soft. As a matter of fact they were calloused because of military work. So there you went denying the truth. You remove her top completely and you slip your hands under her thighs as you both take a seat. She unbuttons your shirt and both of you are now heating up. Caressing her breasts, you continue to move down and gently biting her skin every now and then.

You carry her to the bed.

You open your eyes as the first rays of sunshine peer in the broken window. You try to look around but your head is still adjusting after a night of liquor and sex.

You pick up a note on the side table that read: "Whoever Riza is, I don't think she'll love someone like you back."

You wanted to burn the damned paper and scream at the top of your voice. But the truth hurts. And as you try to listen to your own breathing, you admit. It's true. I'm ruined. You let a tear fall. You let another one go. You let yourself pour it out.

'She's gone.' You realize as you crumple the note she left. Well, that was nothing new for you. 'She's as gone as the first that got away.'

You dress up and take one last look at the room you're sure to forget in a matter of hours. And as you close the door behind you, the mistake you've done haunts you but then, you shrug it off. You know it's useless, futile and pathetic to even regret. You know that you'd be fooling yourself again tonight; looking for a reverse remedy that hurts more than it heals.

"It's good to hurt." You say. "Because once the hurt is gone, I'd probably be too injured to care."

_Fin_


End file.
